


When You Come Back Down

by MissBaudelaire (IWillBeTheEndofYou)



Series: Your Curves And Edges [7]
Category: Celebrities - Fandom, RPF - Fandom, tom holland - Fandom
Genre: Cuddling, F/M, Overweight, The author cannot offer an apology, Tom is a caring person, adults have ice cream for dinner if they feel like it, body image issues, chubby!reader, i hope anyway, snuggles make it better, tabloids suck, wanna fight about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 02:52:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13354956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWillBeTheEndofYou/pseuds/MissBaudelaire
Summary: The tabloids are not kind to the Reader.





	When You Come Back Down

“I'm home!” Tom called, dropping his keys in the bowl next to the door. He frowned at the quiet that greeted him. There was no movie playing on the television. No music pumping from the speakers, no sound of her singing while she folded laundry or loaded the dishwasher.

There was only stillness.

He crept quietly through the apartment, phone clutched in his hand. What if someone had broken in? What if she was hurt? His heart pounded until he heard it; the tiny catch of breath. Tom walked faster to the bedroom, where she was laying on the floor. 

“Love!” he dropped to his knees next to her, put his hand on her back.

She had been laying sort of on her stomach, curled up. Her arms and hair protected her face, but he could see the way her body was shuddering with sobs. There was at least no blood around, nothing that he could see distressing. Just the small sobs he could hear, muffled from the ball she was curled up in.

“Don't touch me!” she screamed, shaking his hand off her like it burned. 

“What's wrong? What hurts?” his hands hovered over her. He was tempted to yank at her hip and shoulder, turn her over whether or not she wanted that. But if there was no blood, and she wasn't really hurt, maybe that was over stepping some boundaries.

“My whole life,” she moaned. It was, perhaps, dramatic. Instead of explaining, she just pointed to the phone tossed near their mirror. Tom knee walked over and picked up the device, settling near her. He tapped the screen, smiling at her lock screen picture of him making a stupid face.

Their codes were no secret. He tapped in the numbers and smiled again at her background. A picture of them with tumbled bedhead, the sheets pulled up to their chests. He was kissing her cheek, she was absolutely beaming. 

The screen came up to her internet browser, one of those gossipy websites. Tom raised an eyebrow. She normally didn't bother with them, knowing they were full of half truths and mumbled rumors. But, there they were, walking hand in hand, laughing. There were milkshakes in their free hands.

He remembered that night. He remembered how the evening had stretched forever, and they didn't think any food sounded delicious. So they put on sweat pants and hoodies, baseball caps pulled down low. They ran to the local ice cream shop, ordered big shakes with whipped cream and cherries. They shared cold, sugary mouthfuls, exchanged kisses with cream lingering on their lips. 

She had strawberry. He'd wanted mint chocolate chip. They'd walked home, making jokes, enjoying their treat. She'd said the point of being an adult was having ice cream for dinner, if you felt like it. Cake for breakfast, sometimes. Staying up late watching old Muppet movies, laying in bed all day on a Sunday, rolling over each other with tickles and dumb jokes.

She made being an adult fun.

But this article didn't capture any of that. This article just said that she was his girlfriend, was clearly overweight, and it looked like she was leading him down a dark path. Tom's fist clenched at the phone. There were a few other not so nice remarks, and he scrolled down to the comments, where were much nastier and darker.

He tossed the phone to the side and crawled closer to her, laying on his side next to her. He put a hand on her back again. This time, she didn't shake him off. She just whimpered, a pained sound that was like a knife in his chest. He carefully wound his arm around her waist. She clutched at him with one hand like he was a life preserver.

“Talk to me,” he said into her hair. 

“I realize,” she took a shuddering breath. “That I am overweight. This is not news to me. I have been overweight my whole life.” he hummed thoughtfully at that. Her words were less important than the fact she was coming back from near hyper ventilation. He'd been concerned about a panic attack, but maybe he was going to be able to coax her back. She swallowed a few times.  
“But most people have the grace to not be so blatantly mean to me about it. They whisper about it to their friends, not post it on the internet.”

“Oh, angel.” he pulled her closer, spooning her, rocking them back and forth slightly. She let him, melted into him. Her dress was rucked up around her thighs, and he could feel the heat from her face. How long had she been crying?  
“You can't listen to this. We talked about it.”

At the beginning of their relationship, before it got too heavy, had had warned her about the tabloids. He had warned her about fans that might not be so nice to her. And she had chewed her lower lip with that thoughtful expression of hers. She had stared at the ceiling of the tiny restaurant they had found, her arms crossed over her chest.

“I think,” she'd said slowly. “That I have enough faith in the potential of this relationship to try. I understand what could happen. I know that's a risk I'm gonna take.” she cocked her head at him, reached out to lace their fingers together.  
“I really do like you.”

He started to love her a little bit, then, he thought.

“I know!” she sounded frustrated, angry with herself. “I know I shouldn't, but so many people agree with them. You could do better. You should do better.” stiffly, she rolled to face him. “You will do better.”

“What are you trying to say?” her eyes were cherry red, her face red and sore looking. He brushed hair back from her face.

“That one day you'll change your mind.”

“Never,” he caught her chin, forced her to look at him. “Angel, don't you have any faith in me?”

“It's me I don't trust.” she mumbled.

Tom only wrapped her up tight in his arms, pulled her close, let her bury her face in his neck. She inhaled deeply, her back muscles relaxing. His rubbed up and down her spine, feeling the comforting lines of her body. The rises and falls of her. The things he had come to memorize. The places he reached for in the night, to feel her and know that she was real and she was still there with him.

The things he loved so much.

“I love you, angel.” he said into her hair, inhaling deeply the smell of her. “I love you so much.” 

“I love you,” she whispered back. “And that's why I'm so scared.”

He stroked her hair and waited until the last of her trembling left her body. When she was still, and their bodies had begun to ache, he helped her off to the floor and into the bed. She laid on his side, covered with his favorite blanket. He fetched her a glass of water, a wet cloth. 

Tom wiped her face himself. And then she scooted over, and he laid beside her, wrapped up tight in her.

In awhile, he'd get up, find dinner. He'd bring it back. They'd watch a movie on the TV, subdued and thoughtful, close to one another. But for now, maybe she just needed a hug.

**Author's Note:**

> Have something you wanna see? Drop me a line!


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